


CopDoc Week Ficlets

by coffeehousehaunt



Category: Lost Girl
Genre: Angst, Breakups, CopDoc - Freeform, Day Five: Criminal Masterminds, Day One: Wings, Day Three: War Zones, Death, Dresses, F/F, Fae powers, Femme-on-femme, Ficlets, Genderplay, Hurt/Comfort, Lil T, Missing Scene, PWP, Stealing things, Valkyrie - Freeform, War zones, Wings, collection, copdoc week, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-04 19:29:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1790545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeehousehaunt/pseuds/coffeehousehaunt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A couple ficlets I wrote for CopDoc Week. Each chapter will have a different ficlet; ficlets will be labeled by day and/or theme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Tamsin doesn't need anyone to look after her, now. But she still doesn't even manage to peel her jacket or shoes off before she collapses onto the bed, drained."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day One: Wings.

Tamsin doesn't need anyone to look after her, now. But she still doesn't even manage to peel her jacket or shoes off before she collapses onto the bed, drained. 

Lauren lets her know she's there by crawling onto the bed, touching her arm softly. Tamsin stirs, relaxes, but her eyes stay shut. Slowly, Lauren slides down Tamsin's body and starts to undo her shoes, pulls them off one by one. Strips off the socks. Tosses them away. Tamsin stays still. Exhausted, all the way through. 

Lauren slides back up Tamsin's body, careful not to touch her back--she can't really stand that, yet. Reaches around carefully and unzips her jacket, slips a hand inside and curls her arm around warm cotton, stuck to sweat-damp skin. Pulls Tamsin's hips back against hers, but holds herself away from Tamsin's back, from that full press. 

Eventually, Tamsin lets Lauren pull off the ruined jacket, pull the straps of the tank top down over her arms and let the fabric gather around her hips, stained with sweat and blood. Red and clear seeps slowly between her shoulders. But it's clean; it's always clean, but Lauren doesn't really relax until she's seen it for herself. 

She turns over, reaches under the bed and pulls out the kit she keeps there, and pulls out a length of gauze. She tried bandaging it, once, and Tamsin had to explain that it healed faster exposed to the air. So Lauren just dabs at it to keep it from running down onto the sheets and presses a kiss to the base of her neck. Watches Tamsin's skin repair itself, from a deep-tissue gash to a flesh wound. Pulls a blanket up over them both from the end of the bed. Watches them close and scab. 

She places a kiss between them when the bleeding's stopped, fingers tracing delicately over the angry skin around them. 

Tamsin stirs. This time, she rolls over, still without opening her eyes, and tucks her face into Lauren's neck. Wraps her arms around Lauren and nestles tightly against her. 

Lauren closes her arms around Tamsin, fingers still tracing patterns around her shoulders. They'll be healed by tomorrow morning.


	2. After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenzi tries to make sure Tamsin gets taken care of after "Turn to Stone". Lauren agrees to examine a Fae she knows nothing about. It's been a long time since she was shocked by what she saw in an exam room. Pre-CopDoc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day One: Wings.

"I don't know, I've never examined a Valkyrie before." Lauren admits. 

"So you can't, like, check her for wing cancer or something? I mean, they just kinda _happened_ , like, should we make sure she doesn't need, I don't know, braces or something?" 

"It's not that simple, Kenzi. Valkyries are a very rare and secretive species. They don't discuss their biology with outsiders. I don't even know what I'd be _looking_ for--"

"Yeah, yeah, all I'm hearing is "I'm the brilliant Doctor Lauren and I know everything there is to know about the Fae except for the ones I deal with every day.'" 

"That's the point, Kenz, I _don't_ deal with Valkyries every--"

"All I'm hearing are excuses." 

Lauren shoots her an exasperated look and sighs. "You know, it's really admirable, what you're doing with Tamsin. Raising her, that is. You're taking good care of her." 

Kenzi crosses her arms and shrugs awkwardly, hair swinging forward across her face. "Someone has to. Something tells me that girl hasn't had a real family in--" She breaks off with a shocked look and slaps Lauren's arm, points a finger at her. "Stop stalling!" 

"I'm not! Okay, maybe I am a little. But I thought you should know, too. I don't think there's a precedent for this." 

"Well, that's us. Humans Unprecedented. Now go take care of my girl." 

Lauren throws Kenzi a mock salute with her clipboard while walking backwards and manages to not trip over the door when she slips through it. Once she's inside, she takes a deep breath, trying to calm her brain enough to even start. This isn't an experiment, this is an exam, with an unfamiliar Fae. A medical exam. A chance to gather new data, yes, but primarily, a medical exam. For a vulnerable Fae. And a favor for a friend. A friend? A friend. She can do that. Just like simpler days. 

She turns around, and stops cold, because what she sees blows her plan all to hell. 

"Oh."


	3. Stainless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It happens, just as surely as it happens to Bo's lovers. Her type doesn't last long."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Three: War Zones.
> 
> Trigger warning for gore. It is a war zone.

_I told you._

The battle's still going, but the bullets avoid her; don't want to cross her right now. She walks through them like they're phantoms. Like they're the ghosts. 

Oily black smoke; burnt metal, burnt electronics, burnt flesh. She steps over bodies like they're part of the landscape. They will be. 

One won't be. 

Tamsin kneels. 

It happens, just as surely as it happens to Bo's lovers. Her type doesn't last long. 

Lauren laughed when she told her. _Biology does_ not _equal destiny_. 

And Lauren was right. Of course she was right. 

But right now, there's just the spatter pattern across her cheek, the pink and red glisten of her throat, the ribboned airway and vein. How it folds in on itself, ragged edges hanging. A smear of dark red-brown over one eye, and a lock of hair caught in it. A brush from her fingers, and they close. She barely feels her own fingers, just the shape of that face, that brow, those eyes, under the tips. More solid than her own body. A thousand times, this. A thousand more. 

This is how it always ends. They always think _they're_ going to be different. 

Difference this time is Tamsin thought so, too. 

Biology takes over. Looses from her back and stretches, reaches. A flare, a flag; bright, numb white. Pumping muscle and blood. Carefully, she slides a hand under her head, the other around her ribs, and lifts her until she's holding her close, head cradled against her shoulder. 

She wraps her wings around them, holding her hard with them, like she can feel it. She can take her as far as the gate, but where she's going, Tamsin can't follow. Some things can't be undone. Lauren will be made new, and Tamsin--

Tamsin stays, like this. 

_I told you._


	4. Weapons Smuggling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lauren. Tamsin. Stealing things. In dresses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Day 5 (or maybe 6?): Criminal Masterminds.

"You agreed to this plan!" Lauren rests her hands at the base of Tamsin's spine until Tamsin relaxes enough that she can start tightening the laces on the dress. 

"You didn't tell me I had to wear a dress!" Tamsin's already half-dressed, though. 

"We need to smuggle in the weapons _somehow_ , because they're not allowed." 

"You don't know anything about the Fae, do you? We _know_ we're drinking with weapons." 

"God, Tamsin, stop squirming. And yes, I know that, but they don't know what you are. Taboos, remember?" 

"You're so dead when we get that book. Ow! What the fuck?" Tamsin twists and flexes as Lauren tightens the laces a little bit higher. 

"That's how it's _supposed_ to fit, Tamsin." 

"Why can't I wear pants?" 

"Because I'm the mastermind." 

"Of what? We can barely get dressed." 

"Maybe not from where you're standing." Lauren steps back and looks her over. Her hair's pulled up, a few locks loose to one side of her face, earrings that don't exactly _dangle_ \--bad idea, if you know you're going to get in a fight--but still catch the light. Her dress is black, almost no back, low-cut in the front, and Tamsin still hasn't quite figured out how to deal with the push-up bra Lauren put her in. 

Tamsin shifts uncomfortably, tugs at the dress, earrings sparkling, scowling. But that scowl falters when she sees the look on Lauren's face; falters and recovers. 

"Perfect." Lauren says, mostly to herself, and Tamsin forgets to scowl at all for half a second. 

* * *

"Come on!" Lauren hisses and yanks Tamsin's arm, dragging her out of the hallway and through a door. 

"What are you _doing_?" 

It's a bathroom. Damn nice one, too; but of course. The Dark Fae elders have to shit in style. She clicks the lock and turns to face Tamsin. 

"There's too many of them." She says, low, fighting to catch her breath, fighting down the adrenaline. 

"There were _not_ too many of them!" Tamsin hisses, "But there are now." She shakes her head and growls. "We'll have to wait a minute and double back. God _dammit_ , Lauren." She reaches up and touches her hair, realizes what she's doing, makes a face, and starts to tug it out of its updo. Her hands won't cooperate--too much adrenaline, too sudden a stop, too small a space--but her knuckles are busted from punching out some Dark Fae dignitary and fighting down his bodyguards, so it's red and gold flashing in the low, soft light of the bathroom. 

She paces; Tamsin doesn't hold still well, even when she's calm. It doesn't help her take her hair down, but she paces back and forth, swearing under her breath, looking for all the world like a big cat in an enclosure. When her hair finally comes loose, she walks over and leans on the counter, slowing her breathing. Her skin's nearly shaking. 

Lauren's a little shaky, too--hell, she's nearly trembling. Stopped cold and huddling while the Dark Fae swarm around them. As it drags on, they'll bring ouf the big guns, and even Tamsin might not be able to handle that. Getting the book was only half the equation--the rest was getting out alive with it. 

What can she say. They should've known better than to allow a Valkyrie past the gates. 

But Tamsin--Lauren's mesmerized. By the faint lines on her shoulders, the flex of her muscles, the fall of her hair in waves from where it was twisted up instead of its usual tumble. The blood drying on her knuckles, her half-curled fists. She's almost vibrating with tension. The sound of their breathing fills the room, Lauren's heartbeat, and if she listens hard, she's almost convinced she can hear Tamsin's, too. 

Tamsin stiffens, muscles jump, when Lauren's breasts brush against her back through a layer of silky material, right against her skin over the low back of her dress. Hot skin, warm silk; it's an electric rush through Lauren's body, sparks low in her stomach, in all the soft spots over her body. Like she's pressing right up against a magnetic coil. Like _they're_ a magnetic coil, spinning. She slides along Tamsin's body, her bare skin, drawing out the motion. 

"Doesn't it feel good?" Lauren purrs, and it's a miracle it sounds like a voice at all, because she can barely breathe. Tamsin makes a hungry sound and starts to turn, but Lauren catches the motion, stops her, pushes her back around against the sink. 

"Still my turn." Lauren says, dragging her fingertips up Tamsin's legs, bare smooth skin, the edge of the dress gathering around her fingers as they go. Tamsin's hands find the countertop again, even though Lauren doesn't think she means to do it. 

And Tamsin's warm, they're both warm, flushed from the drinking and the fighting and the running, bloody bruised knuckles and nearly shaking with the chemical rush. But there's a very different heat under Lauren's fingertips when they reach the tops of Tamsin's thighs, the curve of her ass. 

Tamsin spreads her legs, leans forward on her hands, when Lauren runs her thumbs over the hot skin on the inside of her thighs, the trace of wetness already there. 

It's not just for her; it's for the chase, the blood on her knuckles, for holding off two dozen ancient Fae warriors, personal bodyguards to a powerful Dark elder, with a word and her bare hands. But--Lauren slides her thumbs upwards, under the edge of lace-- _she's_ going to be the one who gets to enjoy it. 

That first stroke down Tamsin's sex seems so slow that even Lauren feels light-headed, though that could still be adrenaline. Tamsin pushes out a breath and rocks her hips. Lauren parts her with her thumb, running back down through wet skin and around that slick muscle, and Tamsin's mouth opens again. She can see it in the mirror; hear it in her breathing. 

She slides her thumb inside, just enough to tease her, and Tamsin pushes back, breathing rough, but Lauren just smirks and circles her thumb inside her, not dipping any deeper until Tamsin's panting again, nothing at all to do with the running. Then she pulls back, and Tamsin's head falls forward a little, a growl coming out of her throat. Lauren laughs softly as she shifts up two fingers and pushes Tamsin's underwear--really, she hadn't wanted to wear any, but Lauren made her wear _something_ \--aside. Pushes her fingers inside her, up to the knuckles. Tamsin wraps around her, hot, wet. 

Tamsin's chin comes up, head tilts back, and she stops, tenses--moans and rocks. Lauren presses, slides, until Tamsin is completely slick around her. 

"Tell me how dead I am?" Lauren leans over Tamsin and husks into her shouler, twists her fingers inside Tamsin. 

"So--so dead." Tamsin gasps, eyes closed, head bowed forward and hands white- and bloody-knuckled, fingers gripping at the counter. Her hips rise, push back and down on Lauren's hand. Her arms flex and tremble and her hair falls gorgeously around her face. Fucking in front of a mirror--something you need for this angle. 

Lauren pushes deeper, harder, curls her fingers forward and over that spot inside Tamsin, and Tamsin braces her arms further apart, leans forward a little more. A low groan crawls up out of her throat, and Lauren knows she's got her. 

She shifts so that she's got one hand on the counter, and moves faster, moves deeper, until Tamsin's arms are probably holding up most of her weight. Lauren watches her: there's her, in the mirror, gleaming and blonde and pale and dark, and if it weren't for the flush of her face under her makeup, her rough breathing, the need edging around her closed eyes, she could be just standing there. 

And then there's below, behind: bunched silk and slick skin, bodies pushed into each other, wet and sliding and fucking. 

And there's Tamsin, bloodied and panting and tensing like a predatory animal while Lauren thrusts into her, strokes over that rough skin. Muscles working against the dark fabric of her dress. 

Really, Lauren thinks, this was the master plan. Tamsin so far gone she's not thinking about anything else, anything but Lauren inside her, looking like _this_. 

Tamsin's breath rasping in a groan, her hips pushing urgently. Lauren pushes back; harder, she needs harder. Tamsin's chin rising, the line of her throat in the mirror, fingers curling on the counter, the line of her lips parting and her eyes clenching shut--her cunt clenching hard, and another pulse of wetness on Lauren's fingers. 

When Tamsin's breathing eases a little, Lauren pulls back, pulls out, smoothing Tamsin's dress back into place with her dry hand. Tamsin leans heavily on her hands, breathing hard. Lauren slides her arms around and kisses the sweat-damp side of Tamsin's neck. 

"Fun, right?" Lauren takes half a step back as Tamsin turns, flushed. Something about how she looks after she comes--softer, even when she's punched out half a dozen guards and made off with a sacred Dark fae relic. Even bent over a sink in a bathroom hiding from Fae who'll eviscerate them on sight. Maybe even especially. 

Tamsin doesn't reply, just moves in with a glint in her eye and a smirk.


	5. Something Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was originally for Day Three: Warzones. It didn't get finished til today.

The soldiers catch them by surprise; Tamsin is escorting Lauren between camps. Lauren has a kit in her hand. Tamsin picks off two with her sidearm. 

Lauren goes down with a curse, clutching her arm; drops down and tries to find cover. 

The change in Tamsin is instantaneous. Her gaze snaps back to the soldiers, and her face is a skull with hair, wings stretching behind her back. 

" _Die_." She hisses, and her voice doesn't sound like a voice so much as screaming steel. 

They drop, every last one, so simultaneously and so suddenly that Tamsin and Lauren both freeze. It doesn't seem real, it must be a trick; that they're so still, gunshots still ringing in their ears until they melt into heartbeats. Just theirs. They hold, and wait; Tamsin stands up over them, wings vanished as suddenly as they appeared, wide-eyed, unreadable, stock-still, back to Lauren. 

Suddenly, she whirls, turns and strides back over to Lauren. She kneels, stone-faced. 

"Here," Tamsin grabs the field kit Lauren dropped, pulls out a bandage and dressing and reaches for Lauren's arm. Lauren flinches away from her touch. Tamsin grabs her arm and holds it there. 

"Are they _dead_?" Lauren asks incredulously, voice a little weak. 

Tamsin doesn't look at her. Her eyes flicker over to the bodies "Probably." 

"You can _do_ that?" 

"Not til recently." She keeps wrapping, then tears it off and starts packing it up. "Good enough. Come on, that was a lot of noise." 

"You've done this _before_?" Lauren doesn't budge, just stares at her like she's never seen her before. 

"No." Tamsin admits, snapping the case fasteners shut. 

"Then how d'you know--?"

"I know. Now come on." Tamsin moves to grab her arm, and both of them sort of freeze, until Tamsin drops her hand, squares her shoulders, and takes off. Lauren lingers, looking at the bodies, but turns and runs after her within a few seconds. 

* * *

Lauren lets Tamsin turn her head to kiss her, but she's stiff, unresponsive. "What's wrong?" 

Lauren takes a deep breath, but doesn't say anything. Looks down at the ground. Shit. 

Tamsin swallows. "Lauren, what is it?" 

Lauren's eyes are closed. "Earlier." It barely comes out. 

"I was scared, Lauren." Tamsin's voice is soft. 

Lauren's eyes fly open, hot. "And you just... do that? Just tell people to die and they're dead? Because you're _scared_?" 

Tamsin looks at her like she's sprouted another head. "They would have _killed_ you. Like, they were _shooting at us_. What was I supposed to do, let them kill you?" 

"I just--I can hardly wrap my mind around it, Tamsin." Lauren presses her fingers into her temples. "There are Fae-- _you're_ a Fae--that can literally kill people with a _word_. And you--you're--you just want--" She breaks off, looks at Tamsin like she's never seen her before. 

Tamsin reaches for her. "Lauren--" 

Lauren actually recoils. "Please don't. Touch me." 

Tamsin's hand falls away, and she looks down. "Right." 

The next day, when Lauren wakes up, Tamsin is gone.


End file.
